


Moll

by skele-kiki (iwritetrollfics)



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Abusive Sans, Alternate Universe - Mobtale, Bara Sans, Big Sans, Daddy Kink, Dubious Consent, Dubious Morality, F/M, Fantastic Racism, Gangster Sans, Jealous Sans, Let's Call Him a Blend, Mafia Sans, Manipulative Sans, Possessive Sans, Prohibition Era, Sans is NOT a Good Guy, Smut, Underfell Sans, Undertale Monsters on the Surface, sort of
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-01
Updated: 2016-09-01
Packaged: 2018-08-12 08:55:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,663
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7928554
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iwritetrollfics/pseuds/skele-kiki
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The dangerous ones are always the most attractive.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Moll

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is gonna get so ugly, and I'm not remotely sorry about it.

Thompson’s Diner, like most places in Byrnes Mill, Missouri, was a sleepy establishment. The diner didn’t see much business except for out-of-towners and businessmen who didn’t know that the coffee was sour. There were some regulars, too, though; people who knew what to order and how to order it because they were friends with the cook. Big Robbie could make a mean stack of pancakes, but they weren’t on the menu. None of the good stuff was.

So the place stayed quiet most of the time.

Penny leaned on the countertop of the empty diner and fanned herself with her notepad. It was late afternoon, and 102 degrees outside. The newspapers had claimed that the heatwave would keep on for another week _._ When she’d read that, Penny had joked with Robb and Betty, the other waitress, about pooling their money and getting refrigerated air for the place so it didn’t catch on fire. The Deluxe Diner had gotten it, after all. Robb had spat on the floor, as Penny had anticipated, at the mention of the other diner.

 _‘Well, that’s just ducky, ain’t it? While we melt, maybe Bill and the rest'a those traitors’ll catch cold and kick off.”_ Penny and Betty had giggled as he finished counting the little money in the register, and slammed it shut hard. _“Tell me_ my _coffee’s sour.”_

Raucous laughter drew her out of the memory, and she straightened. A group of men and a couple of monsters were standing outside the diner windows. They were all in rough trousers and suspenders, their shirts stained with sweat and rolled up to their elbows.

“Think they’re bootleggers?” a deep voice said, and Penny realized that Betty had come up beside her. Betty was a big woman, tall and broad-shouldered, but she could move quiet as a cat.

“Maybe.”

“They look like bootleggers. Oh. There’s _monsters_ with ‘em.” Betty sounded disgusted. Penny didn’t say anything; she didn’t have a problem with monsters the way Betty and a lot of others did. “I ain’t servin’ ‘em.”

“Maybe they’ll go on,” Penny said. One of the men- no, a _monster_ \- turned right after she’d said it, and cupped his hands on the window to peer inside the diner. It was a skeleton. A hand-rolled cigarette was clenched in his jagged teeth. He looked back at the others, saying something and rapping the glass with his knuckles.

The group started for the door.

“Hey!” Penny exclaimed as Betty turned and went for the kitchen. “At least help me with the drinks!”

“Pen, I said, ‘I ain’t servin’ 'em!’”

The bell over the door jangled loudly, and suddenly the quiet diner was filled with rough, masculine voices. The group took a table at the back, even though the place was dead, and swiped the ashtrays off every other table on the way. Every one of the men had a lit cigarette by the time Penny had steeled herself to walk over. One of them wolf-whistled at her approach, and she fought a blush at the rudeness.

“Well, good afternoon, miss,” the one closest to her, a dark-eyed man not much older than her, said. The rest of the table fell quiet, and all eyes turned on her. “And how are you on this _fine_ summer day?”

“I’m well, thank you,” Penny said, struggling to keep her voice level under the men’s stares. She tried for a smile. “What can I get for you?”

“Well, ain’t ya gonna ask how I’m doin’ first?”

Penny felt a blush creep over her cheeks, and some of the men laughed.

“Aww, leave ‘er alone, Jack,” one of the monsters said, but he was grinning like he didn't mean it. He looked like a giant dog in a man's clothing.

“What?” Jack said, giving the table a feigned look of incredulity that drew more laughter. “I just think it’s polite, s’all. Somebody asks you how you’re doin’, you ask them the same. S’only polite.” He turned his dark eyes on Penny. “Right, honey?”

“What if I want her to ask _me_ how _I’m_ doin’?” another man said, and the whole table roared with laughter and echoes of the same.

“No, she should ask _me.”_

“Come over here, baby, I won’t heckle you like Jack.”

“You kiddin’ me? You’re worse than he is.”

Penny stood where she was, pen tip shaking against her notepad, mortified. The person sitting across from the dark-eyed man, closest to her, reached over and rapped the table softly to get her attention. It was the skeleton.

“Iced-tea all around,” he said, his deep voice barely carrying over the laughter and banter of the table. A gold tooth glinted in his grin. “No food.”

Penny turned quickly and went behind the counter. Robb was looking out at the group through the kitchen’s serving hatch.

“Everything all right?” he said.

Penny shakily poured ice cubes and cold tea into eight glasses. “Yeah. They’re not eating. Just tea.”

“Good riddance.”

Placing the glasses on a tray, Penny carried them over to the table. There was no room to put the tray down for all of the ashtrays and the way the men hunched over the table. She looked around for the nearest surface, but it was too far away; the men had dragged the nearest table and chairs up to this one to accommodate them all.

“What’s the holdup?” one of them said irritably, and she blushed out of frustration. Balancing the heavy tray as carefully as she could, she began walking around the table and putting the glasses down one by one. One man saw the challenge of this halfway through, and started counting, drawing the numbers out. The others joined in, and the tray felt twice as heavy.

_“Fiiiiiiiiiiiive…”_

“Don’t drop it, sweetheart.”

Penny reached up to the quivering tray. She took a glass, nervously leaned between two men that were playfully trying to block her way to the table, and put it down.

_“Siiiiiiiiiiiiiix…”_

“Almost there, almost there!”

Another glass down. The tray was shaking so hard that she was afraid the rest of the tea would spill. The men laughed, and Penny felt her eyes burn with tears.

“Careful, Mac, she’s gonna drop ‘em on you!”

_“Seveeeeeeeeeeeeen…”_

“Last one!”

Penny put the last glass down in front of the skeleton, but she did it too fast. A little tea sloshed onto the table, and the men booed at her.

The skeleton looked at the spilled tea while the others laughed, then raised his gaze to her. “izzit sweet?” he said. Penny had to swallow before replying, and even then her voice was choked.

“No. I’ll get some sugar.”

She turned to go to the bar. Tears spilled over her cheeks, and she took the opportunity of having her back to the men to wipe them away. Robb saw her crying, and gave her a sympathetic look. She smiled weakly, then took the dispenser over to the table.

The men paid her little mind when she came back. Even Jack seemed to have had his fun, and was engaged in a conversation. The skeleton was the only one who looked at her. He tapped the ash from his cigarette and leaned toward her, grinning, when she put the dispenser down in front of him.

“thanks, _sugar.”_

Penny opened her mouth to say, “You’re welcome,” because the skeleton was the only person at the table who hadn’t treated her rudely so far, when boney fingers pinched her thigh through her dress. Hard. She gasped in surprise and horror, blush blooming on her cheeks so quickly that her face went hot.

A couple of the men saw her reaction and seemed to guess at what the skeleton had done, because he was grinning like the devil, and they burst out laughing. The skeleton winked a socket at her.

She snatched up his tea and splashed it in his face.

The table went dead-quiet. Penny ran for the kitchen, not daring to look back. She threw the door open and bumped into Robb and Betty, both of whom had just been watching through the hatch.

“What happened?” Robb demanded in a hushed whisper. They hadn’t seen the monster touch her; all they’d seen was her throwing the tea.

“He grabbed me under the table,” Penny said, and all at once there was a fresh bout of laughter, louder than ever before, from the dining room. Robb’s heavy brow lowered into a scowl. He made to leave the kitchen, his broad shoulders hunching aggressively, but Betty grabbed hold of his apron.

“Don’t, Robbie,” she hissed. “There’s too many, and you _know_ they’ll cause trouble. Just let ‘em go.”

Penny sat in the kitchen with Betty and Robb until a skidding of chairs signaled that the men were leaving. They talked and laughed as though nothing had happened, and then their voices were out the door. Betty went out to their table.

“What a mess,” she said, looking out over all of the ashtrays. Then, “They didn’t _pay!”_

* * *

 Penny had a difficult time convincing herself to go to work the next morning. Betty had walked her home yesterday, because throwing that tea had been a _‘foolish thing to do’_ and was _‘inviting all kinds of trouble, especially from a_ monster.’ She’d acted like the skeleton was going to be waiting outside the diner to harass her, and Penny almost convinced herself the same. 

What happened instead was much worse.

It was mid-afternoon the next day, and Penny was behind the bar, doodling on her notepad, when the door-bell jangled. She looked up lazily, expecting a sweaty traveling salesman looking to escape the heat, and her stomach dropped. She ducked behind the counter just as the skeleton turned her way. There was a long pause during which Penny covered her mouth and held as still as she could manage.

Then, footsteps crossed the room. A chair dragged noisily over the checkered tile, then creaked.

The skeleton had sat down.

Penny listened hard for any more movement, but the only noise came from the heavy swiping of the ceiling fan. Keeping in a crouch, Penny pushed the kitchen door open and snuck inside. The room was filled with laughter and cigarette smoke as Betty and Robb cooked.

“What are you _doin’,_  honey?” Betty laughed when she saw her. Penny put a finger to her lips.

“He’s here,” she whispered frantically. The older woman’s face changed in an instant, and the cigarette smoke around her made her look fierce.

“Bone-boy?” she said, and Penny nodded. “He by himself?” Penny nodded again, and Betty slapped down the dough she was rolling. “Boy’s got _some_ nerve,” she said, ripping her dirty apron off and throwing it at a chair. Her dark arms and face were still dusted with flour. “I’m gonna tell him to get lost, or we’ll call the police-” Robb grabbed her before she could force the kitchen door open.

“No you _won’t,”_ he snapped. “I’m not gonna have you go rile him up. I’ll take care of it.”

Betty fumed as Robb pulled his apron off and went out into the dining room. She stepped up to kitchen hatch, glaring daggers out of it, while Penny huddled beside the ice-box.

“What’s happening?” Penny said anxiously.

“They’re talkin’.”

“Does he look mad?”

“Can’t tell. Not sure he can do anythin’ but smile with that face'a his, anyhow.”

Penny wrung her wrists. A minute passed, and then Betty said, “Robbie’s comin’ back.”

The kitchen door swung open. Robb stepped inside, his complexion unusually pale. He turned to Penny.

“Go take his order, Pen.”

Penny stared at him, her stomach twisting tight. “You don’t mean it,” she said.

“What did he say?” Betty looked ready to explode, a dark blush on her cocoa cheeks. Penny always imagined that Betty could handle herself, but in that moment she thought the woman looked ready to _kill._ “He threatened us, didn’t he? What did he say?”

“He’s just gonna order,” Big Robb told her softly, and Penny had never realized his voice could sound so small. _Afraid._  He looked at Penny again. “Go on, now.”

“Hell, don’t send her. _I’ll_ do it,” Betty said, but Robb stopped her.

“He wants _her_ to do it.” Penny quailed under the pointed look Robb gave her. “Just go on. He ain’t gonna cause any trouble.” The crease in his brow spoke volumes about how much he believed that, though, and so Penny dragged her feet toward the door. She clutched her pen like a weapon, and went into the dining room.

The skeleton looked up at her.

He was sitting at the same back table as yesterday, facing the room. A cigarette dangled from his teeth. Penny approached slowly, her gaze dropping to the table. She was careful to stop out of arm's reach.

A car drove by, briefly filling the silence with its rumble. It passed.

“afternoon,” he said. Penny glanced up to see his red eyes boring into her. She looked away.

“Afternoon.” A few seconds passed, and then she said, “What can I get for you?” The skeleton shifted in his chair, and Penny looked at him again. His smile seemed broader.  

“well, i’m glad ya asked,” he drawled, and his voice, though naturally inclined to be so dark, sounded almost cheerful. “i’d like a stack’a pancakes.”

“We stop serving breakfast at nine,” Penny said softly, “but… I might could get you bacon… or eggs.”

“did i say i wanted bacon or eggs?”

Penny stared hard at the tabletop. The skeleton stared at her. A moment of horrible, tense silence passed before he pulled the cigarette from between his teeth and breathed a long stream of smoke.

“all right,” he said. He shifted again and reached under the table, and for a split-second Penny thought that he was going to pull a gun and shoot her, but he was only fishing out his wallet. She watched him flip it open pull two dollars out.

“how about now?” he said, pushing the money across the table.

Penny blinked at the crumpled dollars lying there. She couldn’t tell if the monster was being serious. Two dollars? For a stack of pancakes? She looked over her shoulder to see if Robb or Betty were watching, but there were no faces in the kitchen hatch.

She was alone.

“c’mon, doll. it ain’t gonna bite.”

Penny stepped forward uncertainly. The monster chuckled, exhaling another waft of smoke, as she carefully took the money off the table.

“good girl. put it in yer apron; that’s fer you.” Penny did as he was told. The monster seemed pleased. “’atta girl. now, go tell bruno to make me some pancakes, an' come right back. unnerstand?”

Penny nodded and went straight for the kitchen door. The skeleton called after her.

“he can hear ya through the window, dollface” he said, a scolding note to his voice. “that’s what it’s for. tell him through that, an’ c’mere.”

Penny swallowed and went to the hatch. Robb appeared in it, sweating and looking sicker than earlier. “Pancakes,” Penny said, and he went to turn the griddle on. She went back to the table, like she’d been instructed. Her heart was thumping madly. She wondered if Betty had gone to get the police.

“siddown,” the skeleton said.

 _Just tell him you’re sorry,_ her self-preservation begged.  _Tell him you're sorry, and maybe he'll leave._

Penny couldn’t speak. She pulled the chair across from him and sat. He smoked and watched her stare into her lap. 

“that was a real stupid thing ya did.”

_Tell him you’re sorry!_

“i’ve killed over less.”

Penny visibly blanched. The skeleton laughed, a gravelly sound.

They sat in silence until Robb rang the order-up bell, and Penny jumped at the chance to get away from the monster. She tried to make eye contact with Robb as she came up to the hatch, tried to tell him that if he hadn’t sent for the police, he needed to do it _now,_ but the man turned away before she could communicate any of that.

As though he’d been _instructed._

A leaden weight settled in her gut as Penny came back to the table. She set the plate of steaming pancakes and a dispenser of syrup in front of the monster. He grinned at her, flashing his gold tooth.

“thank ya, sweetheart,” he said, and Penny turned to leave. “siddown.”

Her heart sank further, if that was possible. Penny resumed her seat across from the monster, and folded her hands in her lap. He ground out the end of his spent cigarette in the ash tray, blowing a final stream of smoke that ghosted across her face. She wrinkled her nose and fought a cough.

“ya know,” the skeleton said, picking up syrup dispenser, “a friend’a mine told me about this place a while back. told me the pancakes were to _die for._ whadda'ya think?”

Penny watched the syrup ooze over the pancakes, and then start filling the plate. The skeleton kept pouring. “I don’t know. I’ve never had them.”

“ya work here an’ ya never had ‘em? that ain’t a good sign. maybe i’ll need to send ‘em back, order somethin’ else.” The syrup threatened to spill onto the table before he stopped pouring it and picked up his silverware.

“The customers say they’re good,” Penny said softly. 

“well, let’s hope they’re right.” The skeleton winked at her and added, “for both our sakes.”

Penny stared at her hands. There was no noise from the back, and no other customers came in, so the only sounds came from the silverware clinking and scraping across the skeleton’s plate. He didn’t speak, didn’t even look at her. He just ate.

Many long, painful minutes passed before the pancakes were gone.

Penny watched him take a napkin and wipe his mouth. His expression, that permanent grin, was unreadable and offered no hint of his judgement on the food.

“whatcha’ doin’ tonight?” he asked casually.

Penny stared at him, a spark of adrenaline making her sit straighter in her chair. The skeleton pulled a silver case out of his pocket and withdrew a cigarette and a match. There was a soft _shiick!_ as he dragged the match along the side of the case, but it didn’t light.

“Oh,” Penny said. Her mind was racing, repeating the words over and over to make sure she’d heard them correctly; ‘whatcha’ doin’ tonight?’

_Schiick!_

“You’re asking me-”

_Schiick!_

“I-”

“Sonuvvabitch,” the skeleton muttered. Penny reached into her apron and withdrew a matchbook. She lit a match along the book’s coarse edge, and held it out. The skeleton looked at her; his red pupils flickered strangely. He leaned forward, guiding the cigarette in his sharp teeth toward the flame.

“You’re asking me to go out with you?” Penny said. Her heart was beating furiously.

The skeleton puffed his cigarette a few times before leaning back to hook an elbow behind his chair. “that’s what i said, doll.”

"I thought you were here to cause trouble." That drew a laugh out of him. 

"do i look like the kinda guy who'd do somethin' like that?"

He looked like the kind of guy who'd do a lot of things, but not the kind of guy who'd go out with a girl like  _her._  Penny shifted uncomfortably, her legs suddenly restless. "Why are you asking  _me_ out?" she said suspiciously.

“’cuz i think we got off on the wrong foot. an’ yer a good-lookin’ girl. ya _should_ be goin’ out.” Penny found herself blushing hotly at his compliment, however casually he said it.

“Oh, I don’t.”

“don’t what? don’t go out?”

“I don’t get asked out very often.” An understatement. 

“well, _i’m_ askin’.”

Penny looked at him. Smoke was curling around him, out of his teeth and eye sockets. He looked like a nightmare. He looked _dangerous._ Her heart fluttered, and she was so grateful that she was sitting; she might have fallen, otherwise.

He had called her _good-looking._

Her thoughts went to Betty and Robb.

“Are you going to do something bad if I say no?” she asked. The skeleton laughed again, but it was a mirthless sound.

“ya think i’m that petty? or _desperate?_ you’re _slayin’_ me, baby.” Her heart fluttered again at his words as he took a long drag and blew smoke over the tabletop. “so, where am i pickin’ ya up from?”

“I didn’t say yes.”

“ya didn’t say no, either. an’ don’t give me some bullshit about havin’ plans, ‘cuz we both know yer a cancelled stamp. gimme the address.”

“122 Madison,” Penny said, disbelieving the words even as they came out of her mouth. It was like he had reached right in and was pulling them out of her. “Just a couple of blocks away. It’s the Madison Inn. My aunt runs it.” She paused, and then said quickly, “You can’t come up to the door.”

The skeleton grinned wider and rolled the cigarette with his tongue, a glowing, red appendage that Penny couldn’t help but stare at. “unnerstandable,” he said. “wouldn’t wanna’ give auntie a heart attack, would we?”

“I didn’t mean it like-”

“i said it’s unnerstandable.” He pushed his chair back and stood. Penny watched him pull his wallet out again and put another two dollars on the table. “keep the change, an’ get some lipstick,” he said. “i know ya ain’t got any.”

“Okay,” she said meekly. He winked at her.

“pick ya up at nine.”

Penny stayed in her chair as the skeleton’s footsteps faded, and the door jingled open, then shut. A breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding whooshed out of her. Nine o’clock. That was an hour after she usually went to sleep. How was she going to get out of the house without waking her aunt, or the other tenants? Where was she going to buy lipstick? Where were they going so late at night?

_…Why in Christ’s name had she said yes?_


End file.
